A life's purpose.
In all my dreams, I dream of being a person of morals, integrity, and courage, someone who can carry the heavy weight of responsibility. I have such a deep desire for independence, strength, and the will to self-sacrifice. That is who I am in my wartime dreams.
A far distance from the little girl, shackled in her room, scared of both monsters and men.
Now, in my adulthood, I look back on all the memories that make up my life. Pages of a life full of innocence, internalized helplessness, pain, mistakes, and self-hate; so many negative forms of living interspersed between the joys of life.
I have been everything to someone. A child, friend, lover, victim, and even for a few long years, the villain.
These are the perspectives I've lived through, a life lived both in the light and dark. When I was hurt, I took that hurt and turned it into what I, at the time, thought was strength, not realizing that in hurting others, I hurt myself as well.
I ask myself, after all that's been done, what is my life purpose now?
In my passing, at that moment right before death, will I have accomplished what I came here to do, or will I feel regret?